No rest or the wicked
by charlotteykins
Summary: The dovahkinn mourns the loss of her dearest friend and swears revenge. What starts out as a chase between The Dovahkinn and a ragtag group of bandits soon becomes much more.
1. Chapter 1

The dovahkinn's blonde hair blew in the light wind and embers from the funeral pyre in front of her landed on her pale skin. Today was the day Anya had been dreading all week. Today was the day Anya fare-welled her closest friend. She remembered the day Lydia died perfect. Every tiny detail was etched into her mind forever, the look of shock and pain on Lydia's face when she realized she had been bested and the look of triumph on the face of the bandit who ended her life. The same look of triumph that had been wiped off when Anya plunged her blade into the bandit's heart. After the fight, Anya hauled Lydia's broken body back to Falkreath (the closest town) and begged the healers to do something, even though Lydia ad been dead for well over an hour.  
Anya grasped Lydia's sword in her hand and knelt in front of the pyre. "I swear until my dying breath, I shall hunt down those who did this to you. Your blade shall taste their blood, I shall not rest till every last one is destroyed" She whispered. The promise was one Anya intended to keep...


	2. Chapter 2

Anya wasted no time in getting ready. Just hours after the funeral, she had took Lydia's blade to be sharpened, took her armor to the workbench to be improved and stocked up on health potions. The redgaurd woman who owned grave concoctions had been a friend of Lydia's and even threw in a few free potions. Anya smiled to herself, even in death it was as though Lydia was still there, getting the best prices, getting them out of sticky situations. She was always good at that. Anya spent her remaining weeks in Falkreath training and performing menial tasks for the town's people.  
Just 3 weeks after Lydia's funeral, Anya was ready to leave. She spent her final hours packing her bags. She placed Lydia's ashes in her pack with the intention of scattering them at the very tip of throat of the world. Lydia would often speak of the beauties of skyrim, how her home was every bit mystical and beautiful as the summerset isles so it seemed fitting that her final resting place would offer as best a view as possible of the land she loved.  
After a few goodbyes and more than a few tears Anya found herself lost in her thoughts as she traveled down the road that led away from Falkreath. Most of her thoughts were about Lydia, but not the mopey ones she'd been having before. Looking back on her friends death, Anya wondered how it was possible. Lydia was a trained warrior who had been assigned to the dragonborn, the woman who had saved everyone. She was one of the best, how is it possible that some bandit, very much the same as those who the two had fought up to five times a week had bested Lydia, one of the best warriors in skyrim.  
The possibilities raced through Anya's head, what if Lydia had been poisoned and she had burned her friend alive, what if the bandits were supernatural beings, what if Lydia had died because of Anya. Anya sighed and looked down at the parchment Maul had sent her. After word of what had happened had reached the guild, they had used every available resource to help the guild master get revenge. According to the parchment, the bandits ran a permanent operation at Giant's Cradle Camp, which lay just north of where Lydia had been killed. She looked back down to the parchment and smiled "just you wait" She whispered "Just you wait"


	3. Chapter 3

Several wolves and some more bandits later, Anya stared at Giant's Cradle in wonder. The camp was pretty much a giant stone bowl, Skyrim's harsh weather and strong winds must have eroded the mountain so that over time, it formed this imposing bowl shape. Anya considered trying to get inside the camp by climbing over the top of it, but the walls were smooth and had no outcrops where Anya could climb. There was only one enterance, and that was through the rough log doors decorated with various animal carcasses. Anya would have to rely on the nightingale armor and her skills as a theif to get her through the doors.

It took 3 hours, but somebody finally opened the doors, a large troup of men left the camp, giving Anya decent cover to get inside. What she found inside was not expected. The bowl shape was no larger than an average bandit camp, but was potivively teeming with life. Around 20 armed men sat around a large table which sat under a shelter similar to that found in an orc stronghold. To the left of the shelter there was a pond filled with small fish in it and lots of plantlife, just around the back there was a small blacksmith station filled with all the essential including weapon racks and an alchemy and enchanting table. Around 50 beds lay under a ledge and there was a largish hut at the back which Anya assumed would be where the Cheif lived.

"INTRUDER!" yelled one of the men at the gate, too late Anya realised she had been standing in the open for quite a while taking in the camp. The men under the shelter all grabbed up their weapons and moved towards Anya. She soon found herself trapped in the middle of the men with spears prodding her in very uncomfortable places. "With us!" commanded the heaviest armoured man, who she assumed to be the leader. Anya obliged and followed the man, spears prodding her back as she went.


	4. Chapter 4

Anya followed the man to his hut, where he commanded the guards to leave. "We've been expecting you Anya" growled the orc leader. Anya guessed she must have looked pretty stupid, just standing there with her mouth a comical 'O' shape, thoughts that were confirmed by the orc's throaty laugh. "Your friend was a nessesary sacrafice, killed in the pursuit of a higher cause, we need your help, whether we like it or not' He admitted.

Anya felt a growl emit from her throat, but she was beyond caring. A few moments ago she had been scared, but now she felt nothing but a white hot anger eating away at her. "How...how...HOW DARE YOU!" She screamed before launching herself at the orc, knowing there was no way on Nirn that she could over power him, she pulled a hidden dagger from her sleeve and tried to hack at the man before her, but he was to strong for her and she sagged to the floor, crying as she went. When he realised he had won, a look of triumph crossed the orc's face, a look that Anya knew all too well. "It was you, you were the one who killed her and you DARE ask for my help!" Anya's mind was hazey with greif and anger and before she knew what she had done, the words had already left her mouth "YOL" she yelled in the ancient dragon tongue, she felt a familiar burning in the back of her throat and moments later flames burst from her mouth. They did not kill the orc, but they gave her the edge she so desperately needed.

Fast as lightning, Anya pulled chillrend from it's scabbard and sliced at the orc. But he too had drawn his sword and their blades locked as they glared into eachothers eyes. Anya suddenly jumped back and plunged her blade into the orcs gut. Remembering her promise, she drew Lydia's sword and delivered the final blow plunging it into the orc's heart. Anya felt a warm glow as she watched the life leave the wretched orc's eyes, knowing she was one man closer to avenging her friend.

There was a knock on the door and a call from the other side "you alright boss?" called the man in a rough gravely voice. Knowing she had but seconds, Anya glanced around the room, looking for an alternate exit. Her gaze rested upon a chimney and she hurried towards it, throwing one last glance at the headless corpse of the orc, she climbed up the chimney, to her freedom.


End file.
